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Trade: Askael
Ser Duran and the crew of the Nafrar met Vormund and his men in the ripe ruins of a conquested village somewhere in the Skaggarak Sea (northeast Hyperborea) during Turn 2. There, they established an alliance, however temporary, for the benefit of both their coffers. Askael (Collin) Leaving their ship, the Nafrar, behind, a small patrol of six Knights of the Flame, complete with lances tipped with flame banners, touched down next to the ruins of what appeared to be a tribal encampment, and set about trotting through, looking for evidence of who had committed such a heinous act of slaughter, as well as checking for survivors. As they combed through the wreckage, they saw, amidst the dead villagers, soldiers armored in tattered black leathers clutching makeshift weaponry. Ser Duran, head of the patrol, ordered his troops onward, determined to discover what had happened here. BlackWind (Dalton) As the knights make their way across the ruins, stepping over hot smoke and bloodied corpses. Words swirl around them: "U fink I can't 'ere you? Smell you? Taste ur stingin air?" Out of the setting and into the forefront a figure approaches the knights, crude metal banded over a dark torn robe. His eyes, or where his eyes would be, were shiny bits of silver, seemingly melted over flesh. Out from every angle behind him, the blackwind bled from every crevice in the dark, surrounding the knights. Not enough to envelope, not enough to survive, but near enough to be bloody fun. The knights stood vigilant, a sign of their resolve. The figure rested his hands on his staff as everyone kept their distance. "I know no names, you new boys, but I could smell you across the skaggarak sea. You're a lucky lot, new rulin, perfect rulin amongst us, and we do not ask of violence upon you or you upon us." A huge humonculi of a marauder stands beside the figure. "Don't worry bout him, he's a good boy, were all good boys ain't we? Kill each other later? Days, weeks, years? Maybe so...but for now, I am Vörmund, and we are the Blackwind, subject to Great King Rathraq, what say you, shiny baps?" Askael Ser Duran started, but did his best to keep the reaction to himself as he saw the mercurial silver beneath the cowl of the man's robes, if man indeed it was. Slamming his lance into the dirt, point first, to stand quivering, Ser Duran slipped his foot from the stirrup, unclasping the straps that secured him to his saddle as he did so, and slid to the ground with a slight jingling of mail on breastplate and greaves. With a nod towards his second, who knew that if any hostilities erupted he was to take to the air and retreat, Ser Duran stepped out to the head of the party. Lifting off his great-helm, Duran settled himself, ignoring the fact that if a fight did break out, he was almost certainly dead. "I am Ser Duran, Knight Commander of the Flame, and sworn to the flame for that matter. My brothers and I hail from the lands of the Askael. Vörmund, is it? What do you mean kill each other later? What happened to the village back there?" BlackWind Vörmund raised his head, as if to look into the Knight Commander. "Hmm...do you fink this meeting is on accident? maybe all that is, has come or will come? Ser Duran, sworn to flame, allow me to illuminate. Over these lands, clans have scattered to the wind, always in violence and blood to the gods, territry of chaos. Our King, The Mighty Rathraq, who bore himself to his power, saw the potential in unification, the progress made by a gathered people. This clan...(he waves a hand over the rubble and bodies)...sought to their own power and failed, failure was an absolute." "Not so much a view you like, big man, Duran the durable? maybe it's a lucky day? Do you feel safe, lad? Maybe you should. We are a new people, we've heralded infightin with ourselves, Rathraq has known of you lot, we wish a discourse, if we ease our boys, you n I cut our palms? Would our peoples have correspondence...what is your word.. "peace" for today?" Askael Ser Duran grimaced, but nodded. "Well, I can't say I like it, but unification is...a laudable goal. I guess I can't argue with that. If you mean us no harm, I admit I'm not here for war. If you wish to have words with us, we are open to them. I know there are merchants back home who would be more than happy to have some new markets, and I'd much rather face you across a feasting table than a battlefield. And, if you must, they call me the Young Bull." The last was uttered with a smirk, and all the soldiers in his patrol tried to stifle their laughter. He had been trying to make that nickname stick after some kid had given it to him for saving them from bandits. "So then," Duran took a step forward, extending his forearm. "Shall we have peace?" BlackWind As unthreatening as a Blackwind could try to be, Vörmund took out a small dagger and lightly cut the inner of his hand. He smirked, and as he did this all the surrounding Blackwind began humming and tapping their weapons against the ground and their armor. "We shall have peace, if I know you, they will. you will be safe at our halls, in our lands, or over our winds!" He extends his hand to meet Ser Duran's. "I like the way you speak words young bull." Askael Ser Duran blinked, then drew his own dagger and repeated the gesture, slipping his hand out of his gauntlet before slicing the flesh of his palm. Clasping hands, then pulling himself forward to clasp forearms in the traditional Askaelic fashion, Duran grinned for the first time. "We have an accord." Category:NBX: Trade Agreements